


A Tentative Lullaby

by ChasetheSun2



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Other, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Subtle mentions of pale molestation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 04:04:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10733748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChasetheSun2/pseuds/ChasetheSun2
Summary: You don't realise how alone you are until you can physically see how little the people around you actually care for your presence.





	A Tentative Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> A commission for [Percy.](http://starring-perceptor.tumblr.com/) Hope you enjoy!

It was common knowledge in the bubbles; stay away from Kankri Vantas if you don't want your ears talked off. But escpecially, especially – stay away from him if he's gone god tier.

Maybe it was something about his class, or his aspect, or some combination of the two. But the normally talkative and somewhat condescending troll always just seemed to go quiet once he'd ascended. Dull, like someone had blown out his spark and left him without his will. If he'd been a bore to be around before, he was infinitely worse.

This particular Kankri had been wandering the bubbles for – well, gods even know how long at this point. His death and entrance into the bubbles had been taken as a rare gift; a chance for solitude and isolation. He'd gladly taken it.

Bubble after bubble he'd explored, looking for one that was unoccupied. But, as is the nature of a bubble that consisted of memory and imagination, that person usually has to remain for the memory to persist. Therefore most of the bubbles that Kankri came across were still occupied and Kankri was forced to quietly sneak away.

Kankri couldn't even remember the last time he'd had some peace, been able to rest in a place without seeing people purposefully skirting him. He was beginning to feel like he'd never find solitude like he wanted when he bumped headfirst into a building he hadn't even noticed before.

It was grandiose; the massive towers of stone and stained glass in beautifully intricate designs marked it immediately as a church, likely one of the ones from a Beforan memory. He felt dwarfed by it as he looked up, and up, and up, to take in the grand scale. He couldn't quite tell what the designs on the windows were from the outside but they were certainly awe-inspiring nonetheless. Kankri headed up the steps towards the towering wooden door, tracing his hands along the black oak. It was carved in swirling, ornate lines and spirals, like coiling snakes with jewel-bright green and red eyes. Kankri had to suppress a shudder at the imagery as he pushed the heavy doors open.

The smell of smoke and paper immediately lit up his nose and made him sneeze. It was thick, clogging up his senses, but not in an unpleasant manner. The warmth and smell of the church immedately wrapped around him like a thick blanket. Something about the place soothed him, though he'd made a point to never go near the places on Beforus.

The inside was no less beautiful and breathtaking as the out, as it happened. Wooden pews made of the same dark oak as the door, polished to a shine and carved with intricate serpents lined both sides of the massive room. They were worn down in some places where people sat, the stones under his feet worn soft from hundreds of sweeps of pious visitors. Light spilled from the stained-glass windows into the dim rooms, falling across the pews in splashes of green and white, fuchsia and red, bright teal. Kankri could see the dust in the air through the streaks the light left, cutting through the dim.

He could see now, too, that the designs on the windows were of old legends; angelic, green creatures with massive, outspread white wings, their arms raised towards a pink sun as if in triumph. An iridescent woman dressed in shades of green, bright blue and fucshia with her arms outstretched to a pitiful mass of broken and mourning trolls; Kankri recognized her as his Empress and felt a discordant strike of bitterness in his heart that clashed with the awe at the artwork on the windows.

The rest of the church was made of the same stone as the outside, thick wooden beams supporting its roof and criss-crossing the ceiling. Kankri supposed he could climb them, if he really wanted to, and look at the church fron above. The floor lane between the two rows of pews was covered in a rich indigo carpet, just as worn and faded as the stones and the seats but no less cared for and tended. It led to an altar lit by the warm orange glow of pure white candles that dripped wax into a circular marble basin filled with water, hundreds of them surrounding the ledge. In a wide berth around the altar were indigo banners, arranged in a semi-circle and casting dramatic shadows onto the walls behind them.

For the first time since he'd curiously poked his head into the church he felt a creeping sense of nervousness. Someone had to have lit those candles, someone had to maintain this church, unless this was a memory frozen in time to a specific moment. He bit his lip, stepping forward. Every step Kankri took deeper and deeper into the church echoed off the walls. He clutched at the hem of his god-tier robes nervously. The eerie silence save for his footsteps and the soft puffs of his breath was starting to unnerve him.

“Hello?” He called. His voice carried. “I don't mean to intrude on anyone's private space. Am I to assume this bubble is occupied?”

This voice bouncing back at him was the only answer he received. Kankri sighed with something close to relief, his shoulders slumping. Finally, solitude.

Slowly he moved towards one of the pews, sitting down. He had no clue about the etiquette of a church and so pulled his legs up under his body, curling up on the seat. The wood was worn soft, a perfect dip for him to settle down into. He rested his head against the arm of the pew and while it was a little chilly and a little hard, it was a small price to pay for a little time alone.

Kankri lost track of time as he let his eyes close, the warm light from the windows spilling on him, blanketing him in comfort. The only sound was the soft in and out of his breaths for the longest time. The silence had gone from eerie to soothing with that quiet echo to keep him company, a welcome relief after the ever-present din of the bubbles. It was a moment of peace and rest after the chaos and rush that was the game and the feeling of being swept up in the business that was the others' social lives. Always an outsider, forced to look in even after he'd learned the truth and had wanted to look away.

Despite his comfort here, however, his weary body refused to let go of its tension. Good things never lasted, it seemed, because as quickly as the comfort had settled him, it'd vanished. His mind still whirred and he found no rest mentally. He couldn't sleep though he'd wanted to; he'd wanted to do mothing more than curl up in the light and sleep his afterlife away.

He wondered, vaguely, if that would make him suicidal were he alive, or just depressed.

The silence had begun to choke him again, thick around his throat and in his mouth. It was oppressive, his ever-busy mind offered. To quiet his thoughts and to break the silence, Kankri took a deep breath.

He began to sing.

It was quiet at first. Just a few notes of a song he barely remembered a culler singing to him, once upon a time. Though he had always associated cullers with everything he feared, everything he loathed, this one particular woman had been kind and gentle and gods, he missed her dearly. Her song had always soothed him when he'd had daymares, had calmed him down when he found himself in an anxious panic. Even now, with the soft echo of his voice ringing off the halls of the church, sounding like a cherubic chorus of voices in harmony with his, he felt his body slump back into a pitiful attempt at relaxation.

The hum turned to soft words, barely whispered under his breath. His mind quieted, but didn't completely shut off. As he sang he wondered what happened to the lady culler in her final moments on Beforus as it was being destroyed. He wondered if she thought of him. He realised, with a pang, that he might just be the only person left from that planet that remembered this song. If he died again, it would be gone, a beautiful lullaby lost forever.

Kankri ignored the way his voice choked. His cheeks were wet, but he didn't bother to wipe his eyes.

The echoes of his song blocked out any other sound in the church. He liked it that way, until a breath between lines alerted him to the soft sound of footsteps, seemingly coming from all around. He curled up low against the pew, hiding behind the backrest. There was no point; his voice already gave away that he was there, but he didn't want to be seen with stained cheeks and puffy eyes.

“Who's there?” He called, forcing his voice not to shake.

No reply. Kankri sat upright this time and bit his lip again. He turned, trying to pinpoint where the sound of the footsteps was coming from – only to find himself face to face with the bone design on the shirt of one Kurloz Makara. Kankri's cheeks burned in embarrassment at his own obliviousness. All the indigo around – this must be one of the highbloods' churches. Of course he should have realised that this would be Kurloz's memory bubble.

The mime seemed genuinely surprised to see him there; his indigo-tinted white eyes wide, head tilted in curiosity. He didn't look angry – in fact, he almost looked concerned. Kankri somehow found that worse. His wings twitched anxiously as he looked up at Kurloz's face, fully expecting him to chew Kankri out for intruding. Kurloz reached up a hand to sign and Kankri flinched.

_Don't stop on my account, brother._

Kurloz's face registered only warmth and welcome as his surprise faded. Kankri merely looked stunned.

“I—but it's your bubble,” He said, roughly rubbing at his eyes to try and hide the fact that he'd been crying. It only made it more obvious. “Certainly you wouldn't want me encroaching, making a racket--”

 _Something wicked miraculous about walking into this old place and hearing angels sing._ Kurloz gave a faint little smile, dispelling the racket comment immediately. Kankri's eyes widened and his cheeks flushed. Sounded like a whole fleet. _These walls ain't heard anything so pretty since they were real. Be mighty honored if you'd sing more._

Kankri's wings fluttered, flustered. His ears pointed downward and burned a bright red from the compliment. It wasn't often someone reacted so positively when he opened his mouth, much less encouraged him to keep going.

“I don't know.” He said, fidgeting with his robes again. He shifted uncomfortably and stood up, trying to move away. “I really shouldn't have invaded your privacy, I'm sorry.”  
  
_Please._

Kurloz put a hand on Kankri's shoulder and the mutant turned to look at him as he signed. The first instinct Kankri had was to back off and tell Kurloz not to touch him, that it was absolutely not okay what he'd just done – but then he saw the soft, almost pleading look on Kurloz's face. He sighed, relented, and sat back down. Kurloz sat beside him.

Kankri swallowed. “I don't normally sing,” He said quietly. Performance was never his strong suit, he had no presence – that was all Cronus. He was a public speaker, and apparently a terrible one at that. His shoulders slumped as he mentally talked himself out of singing for Kurloz, but the mime caught his attention, bringing it back to him.

_Take your time, brother. Ain't no rushing miracles._

“I...” Kankri's cheeks flushed and he looked down at his robes, ears burning. He cleared his throat, taking several deep breaths to steady himself. “...Alright.”

It still took a few moments for Kankri to gather the courage. Finally he took a breath and opened his mouth again, his hands clenched tightly in his robes as he began to sing. His voice shook at first, nervous, but as he calmed down and eased into the song his voice flowed and gained in strength until it was reverberating off the walls even more so than it had before.

Kurloz sat back into the pew and closed his eyes. Kankri's song washed over him, a chorus of Kankris singing to him from all around the church. His voice was smooth and soft, just deep enough to hit the low notes of the song without hurting his throat. The song was soothing and Kurloz wondered where Kankri had learned it before – had learned to sing that well. He'd never heard either this song of Kankri's more musical leanings. It was a blessed experience to hear them both in action now, warming Kurloz from the inside out.

That is, until he heard a soft hiccup ripple through the echoed chorus of voices.

Kurloz's head whipped around and he looked at Kankri, confused. Pale red, translucent tears dripped from Kankri's blank eyes as he sung. He was staring determinedly down at his lap, wringing his robes viciously between his hands. He sat stiff and hunched like he wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and was forcing himself not to. His breaths between stanzas were ragged and hiccuping and his wings trembled.

Instantly Kurloz grew concerned. He couldn't pretend like he hadn't heard the quiet sobs from before, or that he hadn't seen the red streaks on either side of Kankri's soft face. He especially couldn't pretend to just sit back and ignore Kankri shaking like a leaf beside him now. Sitting up made Kankri jerk in surprise, his voice cutting off in a startled noise and a flinch backward and Kurloz's heart sunk. He'd only wanted to reach out, give a comforting touch, but seeing that and remembering the panicked look he'd received when he'd touched Kankri's shoulder, he refrained.

 _Why are you crying?_ He signed instead. Kankri gave a miserable sounding sniffle and wiped his eyes again and Kurloz's chest tightened in pity.

“No reason.” He said bitterly. His voice sounded just as weak and choked as when he'd sung, if nor worse.

_People don't usually all up and start sobbing for no reason, Kankri._

The use of his name stunned Kankri into looking up at Kurloz. The other had a concerned, almost saddened look under his face paint, stitched lips pulling into a small frown. Kankri swallowed and bit his lip, looking down again if only to avoid seeing that expression on Kurloz's face.

Kurloz put a hand on Kankri's shoulder; the other didn't move away or even flinch this time. The only sign that he even registered the touch was a slight twitch of his wings, his head hanging low again.

_I always came here when I was sad._

Kankri looked up at the faint movement out of the corner of his eye, watching Kurloz sign. He didn't say anything, as if waiting for Kurloz to continue – which he did gratefully.

_Every time I needed some peace and quiet or needed to sort out all the thoughts spinning around up in my pan. Real peaceful here. Something about sitting in a church just calms it all down._

Kankri nodded, looking around. He'd felt that way, too, the stillness and the smell of stone and smoke, the warmth from the candles filling the grand hall. He sighed softly, tears still dripping from his eyes. Another tap from Kurloz made him look back at the mime's face. He was smiling softly now, almost supportive.

_Course nothing beats a long-ass talk. Everybody needs to break out the words every once in a while, brother, and you're no exception._

Kankri immediately tensed. Kurloz frowned, pushing a little further.

_Let it out. All kinda of poison, keeping that shit locked up in your pan. You--_

“I can't,” Kankri cut him off and Kurloz's hands faltered. There was a disappointed, downward tilt to his eyes and Kankri looked away to avoid that look. “It's – it's not right, you're not my moirail-”

Kurloz gave a dissenting sound, as if he wanted to argue that point. It seemed that Kurloz wouldn't mind taking up that role, if only for the moment. Kankri looked up at him and it was immediately visible on his face; the worry, the fear and the insecurity. Kankri was scared to let it out and vent to someone who might even slightly consider him a culling case. He'd bottled up his emotions and his stress for sweeps, terrified to show weakness even to his friends.

There was a fine line between being culled, treated as a child, like a pretty thing to be looked at – and being used like a willing outlet for others' pity.

Kurloz's eyes widened as he realised that that line had been crossed far too often for Kankri to trust anyone in his diamond. He'd known these things happened on Beforus, but he'd never seen them in action – he'd thought he hadn't known anyone who'd had it happen to them. His chest tightened with pity – the same pity he now realised Kankri was terrified of anyone feeling for him.

With that realization now came a stirring of rage. How dare anyone touch him, even to pap him without his consent. How dare anyone force diamonds on the troll currently trembling beside him and struggling to keep his emotions under lock and key.

Slowly Kurloz raised a hand to sign, trying to keep the anger off his face for fear of scaring Kankri further.

_It doesn't have to_

Wait. Try again.

_You don't have to be mine._

Kankri looked at him, confused. The idea of the pale equivalent of a one-night stand had never occurred to him, clearly. Kurloz frowned and tried to explain to him a little better.

_You don't have to stick around or be my moirail, brother. I can just be a shoulder for you. That's all._

Kankri's eyes widened when he realised what Kurloz meant. He didn't have to feel any sense of guilt here, no obligation. Kurloz was offering himself for comfort and asking nothing in return, no reciprocation required.

No one had ever offered anything like this to Kankri before. Even the thought of it lifted a weight from his shoulders and his eyes welled up again, spilling over in silent tears. His face crumpled and he grit his teeth, so used to trying to keep it down that even as the dam broke he was trying fruitlessly to keep back the tide.

Kurloz felt his heart sink as he watched Kankri hug himself. Hesitantly he reached out with both arms, making a motion as if to hug Kankri but waiting to touch him until he actually had permission. Kankri, surprisingly, didn't pull away; in actual fact he leaned his head against Kurloz's chest and let out a broken sob. It'd been so long since Kankri had gotten a comforting touch – at least, one he wanted – that even as Kurloz's arms closed around him and wound into his hair to soothingly pet him, his damn burst. Kurloz gave a soft, comforting noise and Kankri clutched at his shirt tightly, sobbing and letting thick, fat tears roll down his cheeks and onto Kurloz's chest unrestrained.

It took a long time for Kankri to be able to speak without his voice breaking and hitching with unrestrained sobs. Kurloz sat there the whole time, his back going stiff and sore and still giving soft, comforting purring and gentle strokes of Kankri's hair to help soothe him.

Kankri curled up, practically in Kurloz's lap by the time he finally managed to get words out. It all spilled out in one croaking, breathless gush. Kankri had been able to see the bonds between himself and his teammates ever since he'd ascended. He could see, in pretty red strings, just how connected they were to one another, how strong their friendships were. He could see Latula and Mituna bound together like soul mates, wrapped up in each other's threads. He could see the broken threads between Rufioh and Damara, the fraying ones held together by Horuss' sheer willpower in his relationship with Rufioh. Worst of all, he could see how very few threads were connected to him.

You don't realise how alone you are until you can physically see how little the people around you actually care for your presence.

He went on; the guilt over their death, not being able to finish the game. Watching each and every person die, over and over. Destroying their planet and watching the only home he knew burn. Feeling himself die. Remembering the one and only culler he'd ever liked and wondering what she'd done with her last moments as the planet burned.

Sweeps of agony, restrained and squashed into a tiny box, fell unfiltered from Kankri's mouth and onto Kurloz's shoulder. He sounded so morose and so exhausted that Kurloz wished he could do something, anything to help, his chest in a vice of pity. He wished he could take away Kankri's aspect, his powers, anything equally as desperate and equally as mad. He wished he could talk so he could soothe the poor troll properly, shoosh him properly, do anything other than sit here like a lump and pet his hair.

It was no wonder the other god-tiered Kankris were so mournful, he mused; they could physically see how little people cared about him. Anyone would be broken after that, even Kurloz himself.

 _What about Porrim?_ Kurloz was desperate to find some bright side. _Can't she help you? Doesn't she like you?_

Kankri gave a derisive snort as he finally managed to get himself under control and stop spilling his guts. “Porrim isn't interested in being my friend.” He muttered bitterly. His hands clutched into Kurloz's shirt again. “It's no secret she's pale as all sin for me. She uses it, all the time, to coddle me and--”

He shuddered and Kurloz let out a soft hushing sound, his stomach clenching in righteous anger. He kept it down for the moment. It wasn't his place. Instead he took one hand from Kankri's soft, fluffy hair to sign again.

_Is there anything I can do?_

Kankri opened one eye and looked up at him, sniffling softly. He curled up against Kurloz, bowing his head again. “Can we just stay like this for now?” He asked quietly. He sounded so unsure for once that Kurloz couldn't help the way his stomach flipped and his chest gave a piteous throb. Kurloz nodded; Kankri looked relieved and relaxed his body back against Kurloz's chest.

It wasn't exactly comfortable, half-laying on a church pew and feeling the weight and warmth of another troll on his chest. But for Kankri, for the troll who was slowly and silently falling asleep after breaking a sweeps-long dam of repressed emotions, he would have slept on a bed of coals.

Soft sniffles echoed off the halls as Kankri finally managed to relax and close his eyes, drifting off. Kurloz smiled softly and began to hum, mimicking the song that Kankri had been singing before. He could feel the tension melting from Kankri's body and he smiled, shifting to get out from under him and let him rest – only to have Kankri's hand reach out and grab his wrist to stop him.

“Keep going.” Kankri whispered. Kurloz smiled and obliged, committing the song to memory as he sang, settling himself down underneath Kankri again.

After all, he'd have to know it if Kankri ever asked him to sing it again.


End file.
